


Then I Got High

by Edgelord (lostlikeme)



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Canon Compliant, Comedy, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Romantic Comedy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 23:38:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15874053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostlikeme/pseuds/Edgelord
Summary: They had never really talked about it. One minute they were two normal boys going through the trials and tribulations of fourth grade, and the next they were South Park’s token gay couple. Or, Craig and Tweek do cocaine and dissect the last four years of their fake, not-fake relationship.





	Then I Got High

**Author's Note:**

> If this fic doesn't make a ton of sense...don't take it too seriously. I was trying my hand at writing a more "canon" version of Craig, and this is what came out instead.

When Tweek didn’t show up for first period Friday morning, it wasn’t an immediate cause for concern. At least, that’s what Token convinced him during lunch. Craig was trying to play it cool but he couldn’t stop cradling his cellphone under his desk, scanning the archived messages for some subtle indicator about Tweek’s wellbeing.

“Dude,” Kyle said, leering over Craig’s shoulder to catch another glimpse of the text on his phone. “Why don’t you just ask him?”

Craig considered it, spent two classes agonizing over the concept, and settled on keeping it casual. He was used to playing the earpiece and being the problem solver. Although articulating his emotions would just overcomplicate everything, purposely concealing the truth could cause just as many problems. He rewrote the message six times before settling on a single word and hitting send.

_Hey_

There was no response to follow despite Craig’s diligent waiting, like a hen turning over an egg. By dismissal, he was wiry, walking the route to Tweek’s house like it was his own, reflexive. He let himself in with the spare key that had long since become one of his most prized possessions. 

“Honey?” Craig’s nasally voice called. “I’m home.” 

He took his shoes off by the door so he wouldn’t have to listen to Tweek’s rant about the bacteria he was tracking all over his parent’s house. When he crouched down to untie his laces he noticed the bottom of his sneakers was coated in a thin layer of white powder. He rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger before bringing it to his nose. The smell was foreign, but familiar, somewhere between cat piss and spray paint. 

“What the fuck.”

“Craig, jesus!” Tweek exploded from one of the rooms on the second floor catapulted down the stairs in a flurry of trembling limbs. “Thank god it’s you.”

He wrapped his arms around Craig and squeezed, burying his face into the front of his dark blue hoodie. Craig took a deep breath and exhaled to center himself. Tweek’s entire body was stuck on vibrate, cold, but sweaty. Just how sick was he? Yesterday he’d been just fine, shrieking over the auditorium being a fire hazard the way he always did. 

Tweek scrambled back up the steps before he could formulate how to ask him what was wrong. Craig followed dutifully behind, eyeing the trail of...what the fuck was this stuff? Talcum powder? Did Tweek eat twelve pounds of powdered donuts or walk around the house dusting off pretzels? They Hansel and Gretel’d all the way into Tweek’s room until they reached the prize.

A tall, mountainous...twelve pound bag of crack cocaine. It was about as innocuous as a swastika and spilled across the surface of Tweek’s desk. There was no way they were getting that out of the crevices in the keyboard. 

Craig phased back into the present moment and realized Tweek had been talking this entire time. Sometimes he automatically tuned Tweek out if he talked longer than ten seconds without taking a breath. Usually, anything past that level of anxiety and he doesn’t say anything important. This time it was not the case.

“So now I’m stuck with all this cocaine, and if I don’t find a way to get rid of it, Cartman’s gonna kill me.” His entire body jolted as he struggled to hold still. “So then I came up with this idea...I could just snort it, right? But I was wrong, I totally miscalculated. I can’t do all this cocaine by myself! Clyde isn’t home and Token won’t even answer.”

“Wow, that’s terrible.” Craig tried looking like he was paying attention. “What should we do?”

“Augh!” Tweek grimaced. “I don’t know!” He paced around the perimeter of his bedroom, clasping and unclasping his hands. “Look, I know I said I wanted you to listen, but right now I need solution Craig.”

Solution Craig? Why did he like the sound of that? Sure, Craig could solve problems. Whenever Tweek called him at two am on a Tuesday morning, Craig always picked up. He reminded him to drink a coffee before the withdrawal set in and which cabinet he kept the Cheerios. This was probably something like that.

“Okay...so you’re worried because you need to get rid of this cocaine, and you’re sure you can’t just, I dunno - sell it?”

Tweek started to pull at his hair until Craig gently touched his wrist. They stared at each other for a moment. Tweek dropped his hands, fingers curling into his palms.

“Don’t you think I thought of that?”

Not really. Tweek didn’t do a lot of strictly logical thinking. Craig waited for an explanation or an argument, but neither came. Maybe the reason didn’t matter if he looked at it from another angle. This probably wasn’t going to be the only chance he’d have to experiment with illicit drugs, but this might be the only time he’d be able to convince Tweek to do it, too.

“Have you even smoked pot before?” Craig crossed his arms. Reverse psychology worked on Tweek a good fifty percent of the time. “You’re supposed to start with weed, and then work your way down the list.”

“We don’t have time for that!” Tweek raised his voice, frantic. “Wait, what list?”  
“Forget the list.” Craig’s mouth was dry. “I’ll help you out, but only because I’m the best boyfriend in the world.” 

Saying something is the first step to making something marginally less fake, right? Craig pulled away to face the mountain of illicit sugar. Tweek jerked in place while Craig licked his finger and dipped it into the drug. When he brought it slowly back to his mouth Tweek turned away.

“Gah! Is that safe?”

“It’s totally sthafe,” Craig mumbled, finger jammed under his top lip. “As sthafe as snorting it anyway.” He licked his finger clean before gesturing to Tweek. “Trust me, try some.”

Tweek scrunched up his face in disbelief but reached for the bag of cocaine anyway. It was an entire sack, the kind of deuce dropped at the end of a Mario Party mini-game. Craig glanced to the door they’d left open, wondering when exactly Tweek’s parents would be home or if it really mattered this late in the game. Tweek’s lips twisted the moment his finger sunk into his mouth.

“Ew, dude!” His nose pinched, the perfect picture of an infant sucking on a lemon. “That’s f-fucking gross!”

“I know, right?” Craig licked his fingers clean. “It takes like ass.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I said it was safe, I didn’t say is tastes like chocolate.” Craig eased himself onto the floor. “How long is this supposed to take?” 

The walls seemed brighter than usual. Craig wiped the sweat beading on his forehead and reached for more. The smile on his face felt like the truth slipping out. 

“Maybe it wasn’t enough!” Tweek scrunched his eyes shut when he shuddered, easing himself across from Craig on trembling knees. “How do you know when it’s enough?”

“I dunno, but I think my mouth is numb.”

Craig pulled his finger from his mouth and reached for Tweek’s hand. He brought it to his lips and poked his tongue out to greet it. Tweek flushed, and pretty soon they were sticking fingers into each other’s mouths like teething babies. Pushing Tweek’s tongue around felt decidedly more intimate than Craig was prepared for. Tweek swallowed hard, and Craig watched his adam’s apple rise and fall.

“Are you really my boyfriend?”

The words hung in the air after they left Craig’s mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to take them back. They’d been going out for years - by this point it was hard to remember if they were kidding or not. The joke had gone on for so long that it wasn’t funny anymore, it just was, and they had never really sat down and talked about why. 

“How should I know!” Tweek looked like a deer in the headlights: panicked, stuck, scared. “You’re the one who always says we’re fake boyfriends!”

Maybe that was true - a verifiable fact, even. But maybe it didn’t matter that this entire relationship fiasco had started as some fangirl’s fantasy. What mattered was how they felt about each other now. 

“Would a fake boyfriend do this?” 

Craig curled his fingers under Tweek’s shirt collar and pulled him into a kiss. He dragged his tongue over the seam of Tweek’s lips, pushing inside when they parted. They’d kissed a couple times before, but mostly just for show, and never anything heated like this. Craig only pulled back because he was afraid Tweek would forget to breathe and pass out. 

“Whoa,” Craig muttered distantly. His hand was a few inches away from the warm denim tent pitched between Tweek’s legs. He squeezed the meat of Tweek’s thigh and he jumped. “You’re hard.”

Tweek shot into the air like he’d been splashed by acid and tumbled out of the room. He scurried into the bathroom and slammed the door shut without saying a word. It felt like hours were passing by, but it couldn’t have been more than five minutes. He assumed Tweek was masturbating - did he always take this long to come? Craig was dying to find out.

“Hey, babe?” Craig stumbled to his feet and out into the hallway, until he reached the bathroom door. “Are you okay in there?”

“Don't come in!” Craig stayed where he was, waiting. “Yeah, I'm just - ack! Shit! I’m just - “

Craig dropped his back against the door with a sigh and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. He tried to ignore the raging boner in his pants as he calmed Tweek down through a barrier made of wood.

“Just masturbate,” he called out. 

“You don’t get it!” Tweek groaned. “I already jerked off like sixty times before you got here, okay?”

Craig rolled his eyes and took a deep breath. He knew it was more than likely an exaggeration but his ego was rapidly doubly in size at the mere suggestion. He tried to wipe the smirk off his face but it was no use.

“Okay.”

Maybe it was voyeuristic but Craig was content to listen to Tweek through the door, even if he made no sound at all. Less than thirty seconds passed before Tweek interrupted the silence. Craig was on the verge of jerking himself off.

“Are you just waiting out there?”

“Yeah, babe.” Craig pinched the bridge of his nose. “I thought you told me not to come in?”

“Waiting out there is even worse,” Tweek huffed. “I can’t think knowing you’re lurking outside the door!”

“I’m not lurking, I’m waiting. Remember?” Craig rolled his eyes. “And you don’t have to think. Just look at pornhub on your phone or something.”

When Tweek didn’t say anything Craig reached for the doorknob. Sometimes it was better to read between the lines and when all else failed, wager an educated guess. If lurking was worse, than action was probably better. He turned it slowly, to give Tweek enough time to tell him off in case he was serious. The door creaked open just enough for Craig to poke his head in. 

“Sweetheart?”

“Fuck!” 

A magazine fluttered past Craig’s head before crashing into the wall and falling flat. Tweek’s chest was rising and falling in shallow, rigid movements. His pants were clenched in his white knuckled grip, undone. He looked like he was about to cry, or maybe he already had. It was hard to tell. His nostrils flared when he breathed in through his nose. Craig said nothing. Most of calming Tweek down was waiting him out.

“I can’t cum,” Tweek admitted. “I can't do it.”

Craig licked his lips, trying to tear his gaze away from his boyfriend’s crotch. It felt like all the blood in his body was being redirected between his legs. He took two steps forward and rested his hands on Tweek’s shoulders. He could do this. Craig was going to make this happen.

“Let me try.”

“No way!” Tweek narrowed his eyes and backed into the wall between the toilet and the tub, a sliver of space in the cramped bathroom. “What makes you think you can help?”

Craig crowded him against the paisley wallpaper, until their kneecaps were brushing and he could press his lips to Tweek’s forehead if he wanted, if he were more daring. He hooked his index fingers through the belt loops on Tweek’s jeans, tugging him close enough to smell the soap on his hands - some kind of seasonal pumpkin spice shit his Mom probably bought at Bed, Bath, & Beyond.

“Let’s just say I know my way around a dick.”

The joke fell flatter than Wendy the time she bought her first training bra. Tweek, who was just a touch away from being pacified, jerked away and pushed past Craig to turn on the sink and wash his hands. Once, twice, three times.

“Wait a minute, are you saying you’ve done this before?” Tweek pumped the soap dispenser before starting the process over. “With a guy?” His voice cracked and the porcelain bowl began to fill with water. “Girls? How many - ”

“No,” Craig said flatly. “I was implying I jerk off a lot.”

The faucet squeaked when he turned it off and the flow of water grinded to a halt. Tweek’s hands floated to his sides, trembling and wet. Craig could hear his brain working, trying to process the attempt at humor and reel in his paranoia.

“Oh,” he said, soft and sorry. “I get it.”

 

Tweek appeared completely mollified by the sentiment, like monogamy was something Craig did on purpose. The reality was that no one had propositioned him since they got gay married in the fourth grade. Craig still had the bottom part of a Ringpop in his desk drawer from the reception, untouched since he’d licked the plastic clean all those years ago.

“It was a joke,” Craig said. “Not so funny when you make me explain it.”

“I thought you were going to help!”

“I am.”

Craig squashed the urge to rush so this didn’t become another hazy memory he couldn’t recall in five years. He stepped behind Tweek at the sink and met his gaze through the mirror. He looked spooked the way he always did, almost strung out, like a college girl who fell asleep wearing makeup and woke up hungover with a permanent smoky eye. He leaned down to kiss the shell of Tweek’s ear but he flinched away.

“Hey,” Craig said carefully. “Are you sure about this?”

Normally, that was a question Craig wouldn’t touch with a ten foot pole. Tweek was indecisive on a good day, double-checking with him was the quickest way to make him have a meltdown and end up rethinking the decision all over again. 

“Why do you keep asking if I’m sure?” Tweek grimaced. “You’re freaking me out!”

“I only asked once,” Craig noted. “And consent is different. It’s an important conversation that everyone should have...” He stared at Tweek hard. “Mmkay?” A smile split Tweek’s face at his impression of Mr. Mackey. “Especially two people about to get intimate, mmkay?” Craig diverted his smile and shrugged. “Plus, you’re on drugs.”

“You’re high too!”

“Exactly.” Craig moved closer, trapping Tweek against the sink. He could feel electricity through the fabric, starved as he was for skin-to-skin contact. “Maybe neither of us should be doing this.”

“Dude, shut up!”

Tweek scowled, fidgeting, clenching and unclenching his fists. It was difficult to remember that the rest of the house was outside this room, that they weren’t alone in a universe scaled down to one infinitesimal moment. Craig rested his hands on Tweek’s ribs - thin, birdlike - as if his bones were hollow in the middle. 

“Well?”

Tweek twisted around to face him. He was chewing his bottom lip to shreds, impatiently waiting for Craig to make the first move. Tweek snapped his hips before Craig could answer, grinding his swelling erection against him, fingers curled around the back of the sink. Craig swallowed hard and Tweek groaned.

“Just touch my dick before it explodes!”

Was this all an effect from the cocaine? Tweek was rarely this forward, this demanding. Craig pulled back to adjust the crotch of his pants and Tweek tracked the movement, following it to the outline of his erection bulging behind the denim. It twitched just from the attention, trapped behind the elastic waistband of his briefs. 

“You’re hard too?” Tweek licked the wound on his lip. “Why?” 

There was still time for another excuse, but Craig was losing interest in pretense fast. He felt hot beneath his skin, like his blood was boiling, on the verge of erupting.

“Cause…” Craig tongued the inside of his cheek until it bulged, staring hard at the nervous slant of Tweek’s mouth. “You’re really fucking hot.”

Craig didn’t give Tweek enough time to panic before sandwiching him against the sink and silencing him with swift kiss on the mouth. The contact swept through him like a spiked drink, burning, red-hot, burrowing into his chest. He traced the seam of Tweek’s lips with his tongue, painting a path of saliva, asking for permission.

Tweek moaned and Craig slipped his tongue inside, eager to fuck his mouth. When Tweek sucked on his tongue Craig’s entire body jerked, rubbing his erection against him. He slid his hand down to palm Tweek through his pants and found that it wasn’t enough, that he wanted to get an even closer look. 

Their eyes met briefly before Craig dropped to his knees and zeroed in on the zipper. He carefully tugged it down to reveal Tweek was going completely commando. Craig had known that since kindergarten, when Tweek first started having nightmares about underpants gnomes, but knowing it, and seeing it were two entirely different things.

Craig couldn’t recall the last time he’d actually seen Tweek naked, not since high school, surely. He definitely had never seen Tweek like this - cock rigid, almost nudging his belly button. Craig immediately wanted to get a feel for it in his hand. He pressed his tongue to the tip, thumb and forefinger around the base. It curved against the soft skin of his palm, covering up his lifeline. 

Tweek bucked at the sensation, mashing the head of his cock into Craig’s lips. Craig pulled back just the slightest, blue eyes gazing up at Tweek through dark lashes. He slid his hands to Tweek’s hips to hold him and Tweek’s hand flew to his own cock, guiding the head to Craig’s waiting tongue.

“I kinda wanna - wanna - ” Craig stared at him, drooling around the cock stuffed in his mouth. Tweek’s fingers tightened in his hair. “Wanna cum on your face.” 

His eyes widened when he realized what he’d said. He tried to pull away but there was nowhere left for him to go.

“Shit!” Tweek cried. “I don’t know why I said that. Sorry.”

The idea had never crossed Craig’s mind, but now it consumed him. His dick twitched at the sight of Tweek’s bony fingers, slowly stroking himself off, sliding the foreskin over and back again. He thought about how it would feel taking up all the space in his mouth, and licked his lips. Craig was done with feeling empty.

“It’s cool,” Craig said casually, before Tweek had enough time to change his mind. “Let’s try it. Cum on my face.”

The moment pulled, stretched thin. Tweek’s eyebrows twitched and he flushed red with shame - a thermometer on the verge of shattering. Craig nuzzled Tweek’s thigh, yanking his pants further down with his other hand. He leaned forward to kiss the crown of his cock before flattening his tongue against the slit and hollowing his cheeks. Tweek squinched his eyes shut as he jerked himself off, pumping his length while Craig sucked on the head. 

“Craig!” Tweek shrieked in deliberate warning. He tried to back up but his ass was already digging into the edge of the sink. “Craig, I’m serious!”

What was left of the day was melting away while Craig focused on the cock sliding in and out of his mouth, nudging a little deeper with each thrust. He tightened his fingers around Tweek’s legs for leverage, trying to adjust to his jerky, mechanical rhythm. 

“Craignghn,” The dick in his mouth throbbed. “I’m gonna come!”

Craig pulled back while Tweek was still pounding his fist, meeting the momentum from his wrist with every thrust. His cock slipped through the hole in his hand over and over, precum bubbling from the tip. Tweek flushed when their eyes met and Craig got the bright idea to stick out his tongue and wink, half ironically, half hoping it would stir Tweek up.

It did. 

Tweek grabbed him by the hair and grinded his cock into his face, scrotum pressed against his cheek. He pulled back so he could slide his dick with more purpose, once more over Craig’s mouth before coming hard, shooting thick spurts of spunk all over his face. Craig pinned Tweek to the sink when his knees started to buckle, semen dripping from his hair.

They stayed like that for a while, with Tweek trembling on wobbly legs as he tried to catch his breath. Craig was stunned into silence, knuckles white from the tension in his grip. His legs hurt from kneeling but he couldn’t bring himself to move.

“Uh, dude?”

Craig tried to take a deep breath and realized he was the source of the heavy breathing. His t-shirt was glued to his back with sweat and his jaw was overworked, sore when he stretched it. Tweek reached for his shoulder and he jumped.

“Don’t you...don’t you want to come?”

Craig blinked, and his glazed eyes refocused, like a computer booting up after a hard reset. His expression smoothed over with a smirk. It was impossible for Craig to say whether it was genuine or force of habit.

“How could I say no to an offer like that?” 

“Shut up!”

Tweek pushed Craig out of the room, stepping out of his pants, shaking them off his ankle with his shoes and socks still on. Craig peeled off his shirt and used it to wipe the spunk off his face. He tossed it at the laundry basket and missed, so it was left balled up on the floor instead.

“Ugh,” Tweek complained, jittering from his core. “I can’t wait anymore!”

Tweek pressed him into the bed without any real force and Craig fell back, boneless. He crawled across him and tried to undo his pants without success, caught in the zipper. Craig lifted his head, watching passively as Tweek fumbled with the button, sweaty fingertips slipping across the silver surface. 

“Craig,” Tweek huffed, clearly frustrated. “Come on.”

“Sure thing, babe.” 

Craig sat up and smiled when he kissed him, once under each eye and then on the lips. He undid the button and then the zip of his pants, pulling his cock out from behind the waistband of his underwear. He was so hard it should have hurt, but there was no pain, just a heat so heavy it almost transcended into numbness, and an aching, thumping pulse radiating from his groin.

Tweek settled between his legs at the end of the bed, but to Craig he seemed infinitely further away. His thin, elegant fingers were no longer shaking, holding his cock encased in his warm palm. Craig’s breath hitched and his mouth filled with spit. He tried to swallow it and ended up choking.

“Hey,” Craig rasped, inarticulate, when what he really meant was wait, or stop. “Hey. Fuck.”

Craig never thought doing it in real life was going to be like it looked on Game of Thrones, and he was right, it wasn’t. It was better. Somewhere between kindergarten and the third line of coke, the relationship he had with Tweek had become the pinnacle of his existence. Craig sniffled and Tweek stopped, breath ghosting across the head of his dick.

“Are you crying?”

The question didn’t make any sense, not even when Tweek repeated it and pulled back to give him some space. Craig brought his hand to his wet cheek and still couldn’t piece everything together. Tweek chewed on his lip, reopening the wound he’d left. Craig blinked, bringing his finger to Tweek’s mouth to force it apart and wipe at the blood.

“I’m fine,” Craig reassured him.

Tweek pushed his hand away, bewildered. 

“...Okay.” For a moment, neither of them breathed. Then Tweek exhaled through his nose all at once. “Is it because I came on your face?”

“It’s not the facial.” Craig released the tension in his shoulders with a heavy sigh. When he finally spoke, his voice trembled. “Are you...are you really my boyfriend? 

Tweek’s features twisted; there was sweat beading on his brow, dripping from his jaw and gliding down his neck. Craig’s heart felt like the turbo setting on a Gamecube controller. He tried to swallow but his throat was bone dry. 

“Yes!” Tweek shrieked, pulling at his hair. “Haven’t we been going out for like ten million hours? Didn’t I just try to suck your dick?” Tweek started trying to hastily undo the buttons on his shirt, but he was so nervous it wasn’t working. “I don’t just go around sucking dicks, you know!”

He pulled himself off the bed, still trying to fight his way out of the damp shirt. It got stuck around his neck and Craig jumped up to help, realizing belatedly that he was entirely naked. He undid the first two buttons and Tweek raised his arms automatically, like Craig had done for his mom when he was a kid. 

“I was worried about you all day,” Craig confessed. “And you never contacted me.”

“Neither did you!”

“I texted you.”

“All you said was “hey,” what kind of cryptic message is that?” Tweek huffed. “How was I even supposed to respond?”

Craig was trying to keep his voice level, but it wasn’t working. He didn’t usually let himself get worked up over emotional problems. It was better to stay as calm and logical as possible, and Craig knew that, but it wasn’t easing the tension in his shoulders or the way his voice rose like it was temperature, sensitive to heat; heated.

“I was worried,” Craig ground out, like a broken record.

Tweek twitched, body wracked by stress. “Why can’t you just say that instead of being weird?” 

“I did say that.” Craig’s eyes blazed. “In fact, I’m still saying it.” He took a breath and unballed his fists. “I was worried, you asshole, like freaking the fuck out. You know that I like you, right?” Tweek made a face like he didn’t and Craig snapped. “Isn’t that why we got married?”

Tweek turned pink and suddenly Craig was reminded of how close they were, how naked. Craig glanced down before he could stop himself, at their dicks just a few inches apart from touching, pointing placidly at the floor.

“You remember that?”

“Duh.” Craig shrugged. “How could I forget Cartman announcing us as lawfully wedded fags?”

“Oh yeah.” The tension was shrinking, like a knot slowly unwinding. “Didn’t Kenny get stuck in the blender?”

“I told you not to invite them.”

A moment passed where silence slunk in and threatened to stay. Tweek inhaled until his nostrils flared, held the breath for three beats, and let it escape in a rush of warm air. Craig looked up and Tweek caught his gaze and held it.

“I’m sorry.”

“It happened five years ago,” Craig said flippantly, being purposely obtuse. “Why apologize now?”

“Not about Cartman!” Tweek shrieked. “I’m sorry for-nghn-for today! For the drugs, for not texting you, f-f-for fucking this all up!”

The apology steeled his anger, soothed his hurt, and shifted his mood immediately. Tweek’s entire body was flushed, and Craig couldn’t look away from his mouth. 

“I’m sorry too,” Craig admitted. “I probably could have sent a longer message.”

Tweek shifted his weight. “And we’re definitely real boyfriends, right?”

“Right.”

They had never really talked about it. One minute they were two normal boys going through the trials and tribulations of fourth grade, and the next minute they were South Park’s token gay couple. Downstairs, someone put a key in the deadbolt and turned it. 

“Next time I’ll text you,” Tweek offered.

Craig took a deep breath. “And I’ll work on...talking about stuff.”

Normally, Tweek’s parents coming home wasn’t any cause for concern. Before now, there was never anything to catch them doing. 

“Tweek, as much as I’d love to keep talking, or maybe even come…” Craig trailed off, distracted by the sound of the front door opening. “I’ve been meaning to ask, what time do your parents get home?”

Tweek went to reach for his phone, but he wasn’t wearing any clothes. He stared out his bedroom where his pants lay forgotten in the hallway. Craig grabbed his instead and flashed the screen to Tweek. It was 7:22PM, and Tweek’s mother was shouting over baby powder in the carpet. 

“Uh, like ten minutes ago?”

“That’s what I thought.”


End file.
